Healing
by Shadowy Star
Summary: Sometimes, healing means more than just that of body. DxG
1. With a Seeing Eye

**Healing**

by Shadowy Star

January 2006

Disclaimer: I dont own the Coldfire trilogy. It belongs to C.S. Friedman. I do own this story. Do not archive or translate or otherwise use it without permission.

**A/N:** Sometimes, healing means more than just that of body.

Set months after the end of the series.

**Chapter One**

**With a Seeing Eye**

Damien sighed, taking off his hospital clothes and pulling on his shirt. Closing his locker, he looked out of the window. The dawn was busily spreading her rosy skirts over the skies, with all three moons already gone. The Core's bright golden spiral ascended unhurriedly from behind the horizon.

He was tired. He'd worked hard through the last twenty-four hours and now he was glad to go home and get some sleep and a much needed bath. The night had been a bad one, the emergency room of the Queen of Mercy filled with victims of a shooting between city guards and a street gang. Pistols had become very popular since everyone could use them without the danger of misfiring. And since the fae wasn't reachable anymore all Damien could rely on were his knowledge on fae-free healing methods and what he'd come to call his Healer's Sight, a kind of diagnostic insight allowing him to find the injury or the cause of an illness by a single touch. He was thankful for that, the one and only left to him of his former faeborn abilities. He remembered the first time he'd felt it nearly one year ago, back at the Black Ridge Tavern as a tourist accidentally got shot by her companion who had been a little too enthusiastic in shooting demonlings.

He'd touched the woman's arm and somehow he did know exactly where the projectile stopped in its way through the body and whether or which vital organs were damaged or not. Maybe it was then, he mused, that he'd made up his mind. He hadn't gone back to Ganji - what for? Instead he'd come here, to Jaggonath, and got a job at the Queen of Mercy, one of the two better city's hospitals.

He stepped out of the staff room and turned to leave as a strained-looking nurse came running in his direction. _Oh no,_ he thought and speeded his steps. Perhaps he could reach the door before...

"Doctor Vryce," the nurse called.

He stopped, sighing heavily again. "I'm going home, Marisha," he said. "My shift's over."

"I'm sorry," Marisha said. "But there was an explosion at the 'Phoenix Enterprises', and they're bringing all the injured to us since the 'Prophet's Glory' is closed because of growing water damage after that quake last week."

"Dammit!" Damien said, turning around to go and change his clothes again.

When he stepped out of the staff room again only a minute or so later the emergency room was practically flooded with the injured and what staff was still here and not on their way back home.

He stopped another rushing-by, distressed-looking nurse. That one he didnt know. 'Nurse Samantha,' the tag on her chest ran.

"Samantha, this is a case of crisis," he said calmly despite his words, letting the almost despairing nurse take strength from his tone. "Go call anyone of the staff who's living in any close neighborhood. They are to be here as soon as possible even if that means they get here in their pajamas," he advised. "We can't manage this with the staff of one shift only. Then call the 'Prophet's Glory' for whatever staff's left there. They are also to get here right the instant they receive the message. Then try to get more nurses from each little hospital you can think of. Got it?"

The nurse looked at him with an expression that was five parts awe, four parts admiration and one part horror. "Yes, Doctor Vryce," she nodded.

"Then be off with you," Damien said, smiling encouragingly.

She hurried off.

"Aortal dissection, worsening rapidly," Damien said many hours later, removing his hand from a womans shoulder. "Call for the surgeon team, and fast," he advised and steeled himself for the next touch. He was covered in blood up to his elbows and the front of his shirt was soaked through with blood and sweat both. God of Earth and Erna, was the flood of the injured to stop anytime? Well, most probably not anytime _soon_. He'd lost track of time somewhere after treating the fifteenth wounded. Or after the fiftieth. The explosion had been a big one, or so he was told when hed paused for a moment to sip at the no longer warm coffee a cup of which someone had shoved into his hand between one CPR and the next. The explosion had happened just after the work had begun and had been located at the part of the building where the most of the scientists worked. That explained the great number of the injured. The pattern of the injuries encompassed burns of various degrees, cuts of various depth and severity, broken limbs in any possible combination, head injuries and blindness. That last surprised him. What the Hell were they working on? Trying to catch a lightning?

His inability to Heal was the worst. He imagined to tap into the fae for it, imagined wounds closing under his guidance, bones rebuilding, blood loss restoring. But there were no way for that now not in this brave new world he'd helped to create.

He placed his hand onto the chest of the man before him, and the touch helped him to cut off this train of thoughts. "Head injury but a mild commotion only," he said. "A broken leg, uncomplicated, no vital arteries opened, no peripheral nerves damaged. He will throw up violently but nothing worse. Stabilize his leg, give him a bowl and a minimum dose of whatever analgesics we have left, and put him somewhere out of the way," he advised the nurse apprentice standing next to him.

"Yes, Doctor Vryce."

"And when you're finished with that go run to the 'Prophet's Glory' for supplies. We're running short of bandages, syringes, and analgesics. Advise them to bring anything they've left here. Understand?"

The apprentice nodded.

"Good girl," he said. "And now bring in the next one."

He saw her waving in the next two helpers carrying a stretcher between them before hurrying off to carry out his instructions, and turned away to wash and disinfect his hands. They had been out of examination gloves for hours.

"Onto the table," he advised over his shoulder, the advise itself an absolutely unnecessary one. But he knew well that helpers, too, needed help themselves and if it were just the strength they could draw from his calm voice and sure demeanor well, he would give it. He heard the noise of a human body placed onto a hard metallic surface and of a stretcher removed. "Thank you," he said to the two man, turning, and smiled encouragingly. "You do a great job."

The younger man, almost a boy, blushed a deep pink to the roots of his wheat-blond hair while the older one simply smiled back. "No, Doctor Vryce," he disagreed. "_You_ do a great job. We're just helping."

With that, both exited the room, leaving Damien to his next patient.

When he turned to the table his breath caught painfully in his chest.

The next one was a young man, and for a split of a second Damien couldn't help but stare.

Long black hair, braided into a now messy and dust-covered braid at the back of the neck. Long lashes black as True Night, closed over eyes he simply knew to be just as black. A profusely bleeding gash on the forehead. Obviously unconscious.

_Oh God_ he thought. _Oh God, no oh please, not him_...

Overwhelming concern swept over him and in another split second he was beside the other man, reaching out, touching a slender hand. When his fingers made contact with the far too cold skin, he knew in an instant what was wrong, what had happened...

He gasped at the sudden, undeniable, terrible revelation, almost despairing, but fought it back violently and inhaled deeply. He needed his composure intact now. He needed to function. Gerald -_no, _not_ Gerald, not,- _he told himself firmly needed him.

He straightened then, reached for the bottle of antiseptic and went to clean the still bleeding gash - not surprising, this, head wounds always bleed much. The other didn't regain consciousness at that which was both a good thing and a bad one. It was good because by now they wouldn't have _any_ analgesics left -he just hoped the apprentice hed send would return _soon-_ and it was bad because it meant the other would suffer a terrible nausea and splitting headache for longer than just a few hours. There was no permanent damage to the brain but for a slight concussion, nothing really bad and this wasn't what had made him gasp in shock.

He picked up a kit of surgical needles, searching through it, hoping to find one fine enough to not leave scars. When he began to stitch the gash close, stitch after careful stitch, the other's lashes fluttered.

"Shhh," Damien made automatically in a soothing voice, not even realizing he did before he actually heard himself speak the words, "it's alright. Don't move."

The black eyes opened with some effort.

"Where am I? And why-?" an impatient, if weak, voice inquired.

"Lie still," Damien intercepted the question he knew was coming.

The other gasped, obviously surprised. "Vryce? What are you doing here?"

Damien grinned. "Well, you're in a hospital. And I'm a Healer, remember?"

Gerald frowned. "Of course I remember! And-"

"And I remember to have told you to lie still," Damien interrupted again. "I need to stitch that gash. Unless, of course, you prefer a scar on your forehead?" He finished the last stitch, noticing the other wince slightly. "I'm sorry for the pain but we're out of analgesics."

Geralds eyes were unfocused, looking nowhere.

"So, you managed to get yourself into trouble again," Damien said, trying to distract the other further. "I guess you should consider yourself fortunate that it's only your left ulna and radius that are smashed and not your stubborn skull." If those were the worst of Gerald's injuries, Damien would have consider _himself_ fortunate. Broken bones healed. Drawing on the strength and detachment of his Healer persona, he inwardly distanced himself from the other man.

"What the Hell happened?" He wasn't curious, not yet at least, though he knew he'd be but later once he got time to process everything that had happened. But right now he needed time. Time to regain some of his professionalism again. Emerging himself into the simple, familiar task of bandaging a wound, he tried to think of a way to keep his knowledge from Gerald.

"We were experimenting with concentrated li-" Gerald broke off sharply and the beautiful face went ashen when the realization struck.

_TBC_...

Yes, I know. Evil cliffy.


	2. You Don't Need Eyes to See

**Healing**

**Chapter Two**

**You Don't Need Eyes to See**

_Dammit!_ So much for his attempt on the art of distraction, Damien thought.

He could see an immense effort to steel himself straining Gerald's features before the other spoke, and he composed himself.

"The light is on in this room," Gerald stated calmly.

"Yes," Damien confirmed, gently, placing a hand onto Geralds shoulder.

A breath drawn in so slowly it was nearly imperceptible, and the briefest flicker of shock in the still face Damien could only see because he knew what to look for.

When Gerald spoke, his voice was so very unsurprisingly calm. "I'm blind?"

Damien nodded, the whole of his being still too overwhelmed with a mix of grief, concern, compassion and so much more, to muster the strength for anything else except the most rational reactions. Only his deep ingrained healer's instincts prevented him from starting to worry helplessly, and he was drawing on it. When he remembered the other man couldn't see the movement, he spoke softly and as calmly as he himself could manage, still not removing his hand from Gerald's shoulder but squeezing it gently instead. "Yes."

The shoulder under his palm was rigid, the muscles beneath the slowly warming skin tense. He stroked that shoulder gently, a soothing touch, turning the gesture from an impersonal one of a healer to that of a friend. Somehow he just knew that was what Gerald needed and all he would tolerate. Alright, he could do that. After a while, the tension lessened a little.

"How bad?" Gerald inquired then.

There, it was. _Damn,_ Damien thought helplessly.

"How bad, Vryce?" Gerald insisted, traces of impatience to his voice again.

_So very Gerald,_ Damien thought. He steeled himself again. "Your retinas are destroyed. Beyond repair," he said gently. "I'm sorry."

The other tried to shake his head. With _tried_ being the constructive word. "How can you know that?"

Damien smiled a sad smile. Again, so Gerald, seeking knowledge even in a situation like this.

_"Damien."_

Damien drew a sharp breath. Unusual. Then he swallowed a few times, concentrating and trying to get some measure of control over his voice. When he was sure it wouldn't betray him he answered. "I call it my Healer's Sight," he began. "It's all I've left of my former abilities and I can't control it. When I touch an injured or sick person I can tell the cause of the illness or the extent of the injury. It works even when the person in question doesn't know about the illness and thinks him- or herself healthy."

"Interesting," Gerald murmured absentmindedly. Then his unseeing eyes snapped back to Damiens perfectly working ones. "Were you ever wrong?" His voice was, of course, as even as before. Damien felt black claws of grief slowly tear at his heart.

He drew breath slowly, to calm himself, to keep his own voice strong. He was used to deliver worse news than this, after all. Somehow that thought didn't make the task at hand easier as it had in many situations like this one before. "No," he said, surprised at the calmness of his own voice.

Gerald tried to rise to his elbows, and his face went sheet white as he fought down his nausea.

"Thats a bad idea," Damien remarked belatedly. Alright, it was an idiotic idea but he couldn't bring himself to say so. Instead he went on explaining. "You've got a concussion as well."

He slipped his arm behind Gerald's shoulders and carefully helped him lie back down.

"Something else you didn't tell me till now?" Gerald inquired, voice too weak to carry the doubtlessly intended sarcasm.

"No. I have to stabilize the fractures," he said. "And to readjust the ends so the bones can heal properly." He hated this, hated not being able to Heal, not able to take away the pain. "I'm sorry."

Gerald rolled his eyes which seemingly wasn't a good idea either to judge from his expression. "Vryce, I _know_ its going to hurt."

Damien cursed again silently that he had only his hands for that. Thankfully, Gerald lost consciousness as soon as Damien had begun to align the ends into their correct position.

* * *

He was almost done with bandaging Geralds forearm, all the while keeping his fingers on the other's smooth skin to be sure he didn't ruin his own work, when another anonymous nurse apprentice in dark blue clothes of the surgery team opened the door.

"Doctor Vryce," he called, looking and sounding every bit as tired as Damien felt. "Doctor Ryller needs you again."

Torn between his wish to stay with his only ... -_friend_ he told himself firmly-, and his duty he had to restrain the urge to growl at the poor boy. Or wring his neck. Or both.

Making a decision to do nothing of those tempting alternatives, he beckoned the boy inside while rising himself and turning Gerald onto his right side to minimize the danger of aspiration. "Sit with him," he ordered. "Make sure he doesn't aspirate should he throw up. The bowl is down there."

"But sir, they probably need me in the surgery room..."

"What for? For _you_ throwing up into their op area?" he asked with a quick quirk of his lips to make sure the joke was taken for what it was.

The boy smiled brightly. "No, sir, I'm in my _second_ year, I've been through that already!"

Damien pulled his brows together into that special look he quite successfully used to frighten students of medicine he sometimes had to teach. The boy shrank back a little, obviously deciding it had been an unfortunate idea to volunteer go call that particular physician in the first place. A very unfortunate one.

"That was an _order_, young man. Not up for discussion," Damien said. And added another smile to lessen the effect, now that the apprentice had learned his lesson.

"Yes, Doctor Vryce," the boy said enthusiastically. For a moment Damien wondered whether that enthusiasm stemmed from fear or from beginning hero worship. Damn! In both cases.

With a last worried look at Gerald who was still unconscious, Damien exited the room and entered the chaos behind its door. The chief surgeon winked at him as soon as he walked around the corner. She looked even more tired than before.

"Over here," she signaled at him, pointing at a man on a stretcher at the same time. Damien forced his legs into walking a little more and put his hand onto the man's shoulder. Instantly, the force of his Sight overwhelmed him and he struggled to sort through what he was seeing. "Complicated fractures of femur on each side, complete severing of the femoral artery to the right, consecutive intramuscular and subcutaneous bleeding, internal bleeding from two enteric arteries, enteric infarction..." He stopped though he could have continued for a while. Something heavy must have collapsed onto the man. "You can't save him," Damien added sadly. At least, not with means available. Technology couldn't evolve fast enough to compensate for the loss of fae-centered Healing methods.

Doctor Ryller nodded, just as sadly she, too, obviously abhorred to lose her patients.

"Doctor Vryce," someone called from across the ER and Damien snapped out of his dark mood. Maybe they couldn't save everyone but damn it when he didn't try to save as many as he could. He told so himself firmly, hurrying over.

* * *

He had to hold onto this thought many times that morning before finally, the flood of the injured slowly seemed to cease.

When he then collapsed onto an empty container of syringes turned upside down -seats were just as rare- and he could see less injured patients sitting right on the floor, someone touched him at the shoulder. Only then he realized he'd fallen asleep for a few seconds. Alright, perhaps more than few.

He looked up to see Nurse Celine, usually from the evening shift, standing before him. "What time is it?" he asked, confused.

"Something past midday," the nurse answered, tucking a strand of almost completely gray hair behind her ear. "It's over, I think. You should go home, Doctor Vryce."

Damien rose, nodded agreement that yes, she was right, and yes, he should go home, and yes, he knew that and walked into a direction quite opposite to where the staff rooms were.

"Doctor Vryce," the nurse called after him.

He ignored it.

* * *

The apprentice boy nearly shot up from the narrow seat when he entered the room.

Damien smiled. The poor boy managed to not fall asleep. Good.

"How is he?" he asked.

"No change," the apprentice reported. "He has vomited a little," he pointed at the bowl that was empty and cleaned out again, but didn't wake up. I'm sure he didn't aspirate.

"Well done," Damien said softly. "Go home," he added. "It's over."

The boy almost swayed as he rose, and nodded. "Thank you, sir, f-for everything."

Damien smiled again. For someone so young the apprentice had understood well. It was not only the permission to go home the boy was thanking him for. Sitting with an injured was way less demanding a task then assisting a surgeon and Damien had seen the boy's exhaustion. "What's your name?"

"Jonny, sir."

Damien rised a brow at that.

The boy stood straighter. "Jon, sir."

"Well, Jon, if your exam marks are no lower than B I'd like to have you in my team next year."

"Oh yes!" the boy beamed.

"And now _go_," Damien insisted good-humoredly.

Definitely hero worship. Damn!

When the apprentice left the room as soon as his tired legs allowed, Damien was still smiling. He did not smile when he turned to Gerald, who was lying still and unconscious at the examination table.

He couldn't tell when he'd move, when he'd raised his hand. Few inches before his fingers made contact with Gerald's forehead he stopped. He needed to know how well or bad the other's body was dealing with the injuries but to see those devastated retinas again...

_Don't be a coward. You're are a Healer, you've seen worse. Much worse, in fact,_ he told himself firmly and touched Geralds forehead gently. As he more felt then saw the extent of the damage again, sadness clutched his throat once more. Though Geralds bones were beginning to heal properly this never would. Never. It was almost worse that the eyes themselves were perfectly fine. It would have been easier to come to terms with that if Gerald's eyes had at least _looked_ burned. Perhaps.

He realized he was crying only when small hot wetnesses of tears fell onto his hand. Tiredly, he wiped the tears away with the back of his hand and took a step back. It was then when the room started to spin around him, reminding him mercilessly of almost thirty-two hours of hard work, no meals and not enough fluid, and he almost stumbled. He knew he was exhausted and dehydrated but he'd been through worse. Now that no one seemed to need him more immediately than Gerald nothing would move him from his other's side. He only needed to sit down for some minutes. _Yeah, if you say so,_ someone all smart-ass and sarcastic pointed out in the back of his head. A second later, the backs of his knees collided painfully with the narrow seat, nearly sending it to the floor, and his sight went a little fogged. He sat down, drawing the stool closer to the table and curling his fingers around Geralds uninjured right wrist. The pulse beneath his fingertips was strong and steady. It somehow echoed through his own body and when he leaned closer the table seemed to move on its own and meet him halfway. He was asleep before his head met the cold surface.

_TBC..._


	3. What You Don't See

**Healing**

by Shadowy Star

January 2006

**Chapter Three**

**What You Don't See**

He awoke to the murmur of two voices. Neither of them seemed to make the decision whether or not to wake him.

"He had worked the night before this mess started! And the day before that! He needs his sleep!" That was Nurse Celine, stern and clearly enjoying a possibility to uphold her reputation of being a giant mother hen.

"But we need the room!" that second was Doctor Jannifer Tameri, their gynecologist. "That poor woman out there is going to get her baby!" she said in a urgency laden voice.

"Hush!" the nurse made. "Not so loud! And besides, we don't know what injuries this young man's got!"

"Which is one more reason to wake Doctor Vryce!"

Damien raised his head. "I _am_ awake," he stated, blinking a couple of times to chase away last remnants of sleep.

Doctor Tameri was standing in front of him, her blue eyes narrowed angrily. Nurse Celine hovered somewhat to his right and blocked his view on the door.

"Oh!"

The gynecologist didn't say she was sorry. Probably because she wasn't.

"Well, as far as I got it you need the room," he addressed her.

"Yes," she confirmed. "That birth is going to be complicated."

He nodded. That was indeed a good reason to move his patient from this room. "Alright, you win," he said.

"What about him?" Doctor Tameri asked with a slight nod in Gerald's direction.

He rose to his feet and was explaining Gerald's condition to her as Nurse Celine waved in another nurse with a foldable stretcher.

"What time is it?" Damien asked the nurse.

She smiled. "This time? Oh, almost eight in the evening."

"Damn! My shift begins in half an hour!"

"No, it doesn't," someone disagreed firmly.

Damien turned around to face Doctor George Arend, the Director of 'Queen of Mercy' and the last person he needed to see right now. The Director's speeches were famous. For their length. All Damien wanted was to get Gerald into a room much quieter and then go back to work. Though go back to sleep would be nice, too.

"Doctor Vryce, I heard everything about your impressive performance today, last night and yesterday and of course, you are not going to work tonight. You have a two days break, and I want you to make good use of it. Am I understood?"

Damien blinked in surprise and managed to nod. That was most certainly the Director's shortest speech ever. It would almost go for normal conversation.

"You showed excellent organizational skills and when you're back in two days I want you in the office of the emergency room's chief physician."

Now Damien could only stare. He was being promoted?

"Thank you, Director," he said. He didn't think he was able to handle any more surprises today.

But of course, the next surprise came as the Director turned on his heel and left the room.

"What was that?" Nurse Celine sounded every bit as stunned as Damien felt.

"Congratulations!" the tiny gynecologist exclaimed and gave Damien's hand quite a shake.

Damien shook his head in an attempt to clear it and figured it to be a good opportunity to take his leave before Nurse Celine could mother hen him to death.

* * *

When Gerald had been put into a bed and that into their only vacant room –usually a store room for ICU supplies which was now empty since they didn't have any supplies _left_–, Damien yawned tiredly, stepped inside and made to close the door.

"Aren't you supposed to go home?" Doctor Ryller asked, wearing street clothes already and obviously on her way to hers.

Damien blinked again, thinking and speaking a far too difficult task for his exhausted mind.

"But'm home," he mumbled without thinking then and closed the door, completely missing the look of boundless curiosity on the chief surgeon's face.

Inside, he placed a chair he'd managed to snatch away from under Nurse Celine's nose close to the bed. They were out of pillows, too, but on his way here, he'd picked up a blanket which he now folded and positioned it onto the bed beside Gerald's midsection. He sat down and leaned forward, placing his right hand over Gerald's carotid and his left onto the folded blanket substituting a pillow. Sleeping like this, he hopefully would be able to feel a change in Gerald's pulse frequency. And it felt so right to be like this, to guard Gerald's sleep… Even if it would put a knot or two more into the already aching muscles of his neck, he thought dryly. With that thought on his tired mind and his head touching his makeshift cushion, he let himself drift off to the realms of sleep.

* * *

When he woke this time it was because of the wetness on his cheeks and though he didn't remember his dreams he remembered the intense feeling of loss in them. Plus the tears, it wasn't difficult to deduce he'd been dreaming of Gerald again.

He tried to find a more comfortable position, eyes still closed, and groaned audibly at the ache in his neck.

Wait a second here. Why the vulking Hell was his neck hurting? And why was he sitting instead of lying comfortably in his bed, at home?

He opened his eyes at that and it was when remembrance struck. With the force of a lightning, thank you very much.

He was of course not at home, and the reason he was sitting on a very uncomfortable chair instead of lying in his very comfortable bed was sleeping peacefully right there before his eyes.

Carefully, he raised his own hand back to Gerald's pulse where he dimly remembered having placed it before falling asleep. The skin beneath his fingertips was soft and smooth and he couldn't resist stroking it feather-lightly with his thumb. The heartbeat sped then and Damien cursed himself three kinds of idiot. Gerald needed his sleep.

"Vryce?" Gerald asked, opening his eyes and drawing a sharp breath as if only now remembering he couldn't see.

"Good morning," Damien answered, holding his voice light. Gerald wouldn't bear to be pitied.

"Is it morning?" the other asked, only the slightest trace of bitterness in his voice.

"Yes. Well, at least I think so," Damien answered. "There's no window in this room."

He stood and stretched, feeling all the knots in his back at once.

Gerald tilted his head slightly, listening to the sounds he was making. Damien had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat at this.

The gesture was already that of a blind person.

"How do you feel? Does your head hurt?" Damien asked quickly.

The expression on Gerald's face was set, revealing nothing, as he answered. "No, my head doesn't hurt anymore, Vryce."

Damien noticed he didn't answer his first question but decided to let it go. With Gerald snarky like this, he could tell the other was feeling anything but well.

Because of that, he wasn't pleased when Gerald tried to sit up.

"What the Hell do you think are you doing?" he exclaimed, rushing to Gerald's side and supporting his back.

"What does it look like?" Gerald retorted acidly, glaring in his direction. Damien hadn't known until then blind eyes could glare like this.

"Like something as stupid as going out of bed without your healer's permission for example," he said and despite the situation he couldn't help smiling. "What were you intending?"

"Go search for the bathrooms, of course, since the bathrooms wouldn't come to me," the other man stated in a tone as if he was wondering how Damien could ask such a silly question.

Damien shook his head in disbelief but slipped his arm behind Gerald's back and helped him to a standing position.

"Want to try stand on your own?" he asked when for some unknown reason Gerald didn't shrug off his arm.

So he let go of Gerald's waist.

* * *

Later this morning, Damien went to obtain whatever the hospital cook had decided for breakfast and earned a stern look form both Nurse Celine and Doctor Ryller in the process but ignored both women just to return to Gerald's side. That was why he completely missed the look they exchanged. Otherwise, he probably would have panicked. Nothing escaped those two's curiosity.

"Time for breakfast," he said in an attempt at levity, finding Gerald exactly where he'd left him for a change.

"You're not expecting me to eat _that_, aren't you?" the other man asked sometime later, grimacing in distaste at the smell of slightly burned food.

"That's what you get when you're late for breakfast!" Damien exclaimed with forced cheerfulness. "Though I have to agree with you, it isn't exactly gourmet cuisine!"

"You agreeing with me? I'll mark that day on the calendar."

Damien couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

"Do you think it funny?"

"No offense, yes," Damien said, still chuckling. "I just imagined you with a pen, writing 'The day Damien Vryce agreed with me.'"

Again, Gerald chose to glare.

* * *

"Describe what you're doing," Gerald ordered after their breakfast-turned-lunch.

"What?"

"I need to learn the sound of everything anew," he explained. "So I would know what happens around me without seeing. Adept Sight isn't exact enough without ordinary sight to complete it. At least," Gerald contiuned, "we now have the answer to one of the oldest questions concerning Seeing the fae."

"Which is?" Damien asked, feeling having been transported back into the past for a moment – when he'd been listening to another one of Gerald's lectures on the fae.

"Which is whether the ability to See can be explained with additional receptor cells in retina or if it is a completely different sensory system that is translated by the brain into visual input. Since I can sill See with my retinas destroyed, it must be the latter."

Damien's heart shattered for the thousandth time since Gerald had been carried into his ER. Typical Gerald Tarrant the scientist for you. Searching for knowledge even in a situation when lesser men would have despaired. He ached to offer what comfort he could, knowing full well at the same time there was no way for that without Gerald taking it for pity. He knew how the other thought and worked, after all.

So he went through each motion Gerald was ordering, sometimes slowly, sometimes fast, sometimes somewhere in between. "Pick that up", "Put this down", "Comb your hair", "Sit down", "Get to your feet", "Put this here and that there"… All the things long familiar, things he went through every day without ever giving them a second thought now became precious because it was what Gerald needed, the only way how he could help Gerald at least a little.

One God of Erna. He would have gladly given everything he had for being able to Heal.

Damien stilled midway through buttoning up his shirt.

He _could_ Heal. But was he willing to pay the price for that?

In two long strides he crossed the room, drawing a curious "Vryce?" out of Gerald who was sitting –or rather lounging– on his bed, concentrating on the sounds.

"Let me do this, Gerald," he whispered softly, sitting down and pulling the other into an embrace, an action designed to distract that sharp mind from what he was intending to do until it was to late. And, selfishly, to have the man he loved close, even if it was only for that little moment he would have before the fae consumed him.

* * *

_Alright,_ Damien thought, that never forgotten, familiar calm of Healing coming back to him surprisingly easy. _You can do this_.

He let his eyes fall shut, still holding Gerald close.

And then, he opened his mind to the fae. It was much like back then on Shaitan's slopes, when Gerald's heart had ceased to function. Only this time, he knew, there wouldn't be a reprieve. He started praying. I give. Take me. In exchange give me the power to Heal. He expected the onrush of fae, blue and forceful and glowing but what instead answered was something quite opposite. Soft like falling rain, it filled the abyss of his loss, warm like morning sun, it melted away the ice of his despair, like combined light of the Core, it lit up his soul.

And Damien understood.

He felt like in the forest of the Terata, when a divine power had stilled both his rage and his hand. This power demanded nothing in return, it was simply there, available, accessible, _responding_. And finally he understood what had happened back then at the Lethe river when two sacrifices, offered and accepted, had interlaced, creating something new, something different...

Gerald's sacrifice had made the _earth fae_ _unreachable_. The Patriarch's one had made the _divine fae reachable_. He highly doubted the old man had intended so as in he was trying to end the use of all fae on Erna but the Patriarch _had _prayed as his life blood had been joining Lethe's ice cold currents. Had prayed and thus, had opened another way for humankind to remain in contact with this incredibly responsive planet. A way open only to those of true faith, and as much as Damien had denied his faith lately as deeply he knew he still had it. His faith had changed during those years of traveling but it was still there and it was still strong.

Damien opened himself to that power, opened himself completely, without doubt, without hesitation and as it flowed through him, he suddenly knew it would be always there, waiting to be put to good use, to _answer_…

He dived into Gerald's body, so different from the one he was used to and yet so familiar, new and yet unmistakably Gerald's, searching for the injuries. He felt a power running within the deepest core of his being, a power he had never felt before, not even as the earth fae had still been Workable. He flowed in Gerald's veins, was carried to the broken bones and Healed them without effort or concentration, almost without thinking. The gash on the other man's forehead Healed almost without Damien noticing. As he found what he was searching for he didn't even stop to figure a plan of how to achieve his goal, he just went on, his senses expanding even further und deeper, down deep to synapses and changes in neuronal transmitters, and that was where he Worked… New dendrites sprouted, aligning themselves into patterns and groups, retinas being restored layer by layer…

He wasn't aware that somewhere still in the room, Gerald had screamed a desperate 'No' and was now demanding Damien to stop, thinking he was about to sacrifice his life. He didn't feel slender arms gripping his shoulders, hard, didn't hear darkest despair and deepest sorrow in Gerald's voice when he called Damien's name, didn't see hot tears on the youthful face. He didn't feel a slap to his face, a last attempt to bring him back… He didn't feel a hand on his cheek, a last goodbye… He didn't hear soft words that followed…

* * *

When he opened his eyes, he met a pair of beautiful black eyes that looked into his own, every bit as surprised as he himself was feeling.

"Well, I think I'm alive," he said, letting go of the other. He had been too focused on his Healing to remember the divine fae demanded nothing from him but faith.

"That's quite obvious," Gerald said, his now seeing eyes looking Damien all over, as if to ensure he was really there, unharmed.

Then, burning, hot anger entered those eyes.

"Vryce, you're an idiot!"

"Your gratitude is overwhelming as usual," Damien replied sarcastically, pressing his palm to his wondrously burning cheek. Well, when did Gerald _ever_ thank him for saving his life? Alright, technically he didn't save Gerald's live this time but still.

"Why did you do this? I didn't ask you to!" Gerald's voice was hoarse, human, full of an emotion behind the anger that Damien couldn't decipher. "I might have been blind but I would have managed! Why would you risk your life for me?"

Damien looked at the other, smiling sadly.

"Erna needs you more than it needs me. Think of what you can do for humanity, for this planet, for humanity on this planet."

"I don't vulking care!"

Rage caught up with Damien then. "Yes, you do! Now that Erna finally has a chance to reach the stars!" he exclaimed. "With all your knowledge, just think about it. And then think of what I can do. No comparison."

"Idiot! Of course there is–"

"I think it would be better if I leave," Damien said, cutting Gerald off. Forcing himself to calm down, his voice going colder than ice. He needed to leave before he could say something that would endanger the other man's new life. "Since you obviously dislike the fact of my presence here so much."

"If this is what you want," Gerald replied equally coldly, his eyes revealing nothing, every emotion he might have showed now safely hidden away.

"What I want doesn't matter," Damien said bitterly.

He turned around and walked to the door. He couldn't remember to have done something harder before except perhaps watching Gerald leave at the Black Ridge Pass back then. As he reached for the doorknob, there was a hand and an arm, pressing the door back into its place. And then, a slender body shoved itself between him and the door. No anger was in those black eyes, only despair.

"You can't possibly think I would endanger someone I lo–" he broke off and turned his head away from that gaze burning like black fire.

There was a sharp gasp from the other man, and a slender hand rose as if to turn his face toward Gerald's but fell back halfway.

"Damien," a hoarse voice said. "Look at me. Please."

Unusual, this. Surprised, he looked at the other man just in time to see the expression on that beautiful, unfamiliar face change from one of utter despair into one of – what indeed? Intense relief combined with disbelief and something else, something human and pure and _real_.

"So this is why…" And silence fell as if Gerald wasn't able to speak anymore.

His eyes still locked with that gaze of black liquid fire, Damien saw the slender hand rise to his cheek again, the long fingers slightly trembling. The touch was warm – human warmth, burning and scalding and wonderful.

"You do not endanger me," Gerald whispered, voice again full of emotion but this time Damien could read it effortlessly. "Not you." With that, he leaned forward, his hand finally cupping Damien's cheek, his thumb gently tracing Damien's lips.

Damien could see the faintest trace of a smile upon the other's face, and he smiled as well, as he bent forward and met Gerald halfway. The lips on his were warm and soft, and he smiled even more broadly.

"Did you honestly believe I would let you go, now that we've finally found each other again?" Gerald chuckled faintly against his mouth.

At that, Damien shrugged and did not answer.

"I will never let you go," the other man added.

Damien laughed softly. "Why should I want you to?" he asked, and put his arms around Gerald's slender body, sensing a sharp gasp again.

And then, there were only Gerald's lips on his, and Gerald's body pressed against his, and sun-warmed wooden floor to catch them.

And happiness.

_FIN_

**Extra Notes:**

1) Have no idea if there are ICUs on Erna, though. Just suppose with fae-born Healing no longer available medical care would be the first to evolve.


End file.
